


Old Pine

by tiedyethighs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiedyethighs/pseuds/tiedyethighs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rather than Cas obtaining more stolen grace via Crowley (10x03), what if his illegitimate grace continued to fade?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Old Pine

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Ben Howard's song, Old Pine. also rly sorry this isn't spaced properly, there's no way in hell i'm going through and fixing that shit, sorry :(

It had been nearly two months since Sam and Cas had returned Dean back to his normal state. In that time, there had been a lot of emotion in the bunker. Dean had a lot of things to deal with, as did Sam. The repercussions from the actions taken by both of the brothers during those dark six months seemed never-ending, but things were finally starting to quiet down.  
Hannah had finally agreed to leave Cas be when he told her the truth. She was taken by surprise— that was for sure, but any angel like Hannah would be. That was about six weeks ago, when he had become too weak to continue the search for answers to obtaining his own missing grace. Besides, that was always Hannah's mission anyways, not his.  
He showed back up at the bunker then, trench coat even baggier than normal on his thinning body. When the door opened, it was Dean who stood on the other side of the threshold.  
"Cas? What the hell man, you told us you were doing okay, that you were onto something," Dean said, his voice tinged with a gamut of emotions.  
"Dean." Cas said, making brief eye contact before needing to grab onto the doorframe for support.  
Dean rushed to hold him up. He slid an arm around Castiel's waist and draped Cas's left arm over himself.   
"Come on," Dean said, with a grunt, as he mostly carried Cas into bunker.  
That was six weeks ago.  
Things had seriously deteriorated since then. There were only two bedrooms in the bunker, and Cas had only lasted about two weeks on the couch in the study before he was moved to Dean’s bed.  
About two weeks ago, Sam came into Dean's room to bring Cas a bowl of soup. This had become a bit of a regular thing, Sam making Cas food, Cas never really being able to eat the food, it never stopped Sam from trying, though.   
But this time, when Sam sat the bowl down on the night stand and turned to walk out, Cas spoke up.  
"Sam," Cas croaked. His voice sounding even rustier than it used to, if that were even possible.  
"Yeah, Cas?" Sam said, turning around to face him.  
"Can I-- can we, talk about something for a moment?" Cas asked, his voice filled with more sound and tone than it had since he'd been there.  
"Sure, man, anything," Sam replied, pulling a chair up beside a very bedraggled Castiel.  
And then Cas told him the truth, too; the same one he had told Hannah.  
About a week ago, Cas asked if the three of them could drive to Bobby’s old place. The boys both thought it was an odd request, but seeing as to Cas was practically dying in front of them, they couldn’t say no.  
They had to take it slow. They arrived at Bobby’s two nights ago. Bobby’s place technically belongs to Sam and Dean now, but they’ve never really felt it was right to live in the place, at least not yet anyways. It was still too soon, and the skeletons of deceased cars sprinkling the property didn’t exactly give it a homey feel.   
Even with the help of Sam and Dean, Cas couldn’t make it upstairs to the bedrooms, so he landed on the couch. That night, Sam headed upstairs to grab some sleep after the long drive, and Dean settled into the window seat and sighed.  
After a few minutes of extended silence, Dean said,“You know we’re gonna fix this, right Cas? Sam— Sam thinks he’s onto something with bone of lamb and phoenix powder, we’re getti— ,” but then he was cut off.  
“Dean, please,” Cas said, sounding as though each word required him lifting a hundred pound weight off of his chest to speak.  
“My grace is fading. There’s no fixing this. There’s no spell or ritual you can pull out of your ass this time,” The last part trailed off, even quieter than the rest.  
“Cas there’s gotta be something,”   
“Dean, no,” Castiel said, with a surprising firmness.   
Dean got up from the window seat and moved to sit on the coffee table right next to where Cas was laying on the worn couch, and took Cas’ hand.   
Looking into Cas’ eyes Dean said, “Cas listen to me, nothing is going to happen to you. Besides Sam, you’re the closest thing I have to family…” Dean rose from the coffee table and walked towards the end table, “and god dammit I’m not going to lose another part of the only family I have left,” he said, with a shove to the end table.  
Breathing heavily, Dean sat back down on the coffee table, facing slightly away from Cas. He looked at his hands, trying to think things over. Cas was his friend, one of the best things to ever happen to him.   
“I can’t lose you too, man,” Dean said, his voice tight.   
This time, Cas took Dean’s hand and looked into his mossy eyes, “You won’t,” Cas said, and he fully meant that, even if Dean didn’t understand it yet.  
After the brief moment it took for Dean to hear the rush of emotion in Cas’ words, he removed his hand from Cas’, and cupped it around Cas’ stubbled chin. Then, slowly Dean moved his head closer to Cas’, until the distance was too minute to keep the magnetic forces at bay. Dean’s lips pressed softly, yet firmly, into Cas’.   
And that was when Dean told Cas the truth.  
~~~  
That was two nights ago. It is now the morning. Cas asked to go to the field next to Bobby’s old salvage yard. Dean and Sam had to carry him, but they brought a blanket, and the three of them enjoyed the cool morning the best they could.  
After they’d been there for about twenty minutes, Cas suddenly stood up. Dean and Sam were both startled; neither of them had seen Cas move this quickly in months. They both stood up and followed Cas, asking futile questions about what he thought he was doing, where he was going, to which they received no answer.  
About 20 yards from where they had been sitting on the blanket, a world weary Cas looked at Sam and Dean with a bit of a grin on his face.   
“I’ve lived a long life. The time I have known the two of you however brief, but unspeakably sublime. The two of you have shown me family, laughter, friendship, care, and” he looked directly at Dean, “love. In my thousands of years, I have known no men like you. Sam, Dean, you boys have shown me who I’ve been my whole life, but never had the courage to recognize, I am eternally grateful, thank you.”  
Before Sam or Dean could get in a word edgewise, Cas collapsed to the ground.  
“Cas?” Dean said, getting onto his knees next to the fallen angel.  
“Cas!” he yelled, shaking him this time, but the body was firm, as though some kind of super speed rigor mortis had set in.  
Then, a holy light filled the air, and Dean was forced to quickly move back and shield his eyes.   
Once the light and the loud shining noise left the air, in the place of Cas’ frail body, was the largest and most magnificent pine tree Sam or Dean had ever seen.   
~~~  
That day, there were many tears, much heartache, and a feeling of loss that both of the brothers were all too familiar with.  
In the following weeks, Sam and Dean moved into Bobby’s old place. They brought some of their favorite books from the bunker, and began the impossible process of clearing out the salvage lot; but, every now and then, when the boys get a few uninterrupted nights at home, Dean goes out to the pine tree, and tells Cas stories. And as he speaks of adventures unknown, he looks up at the stars, hoping that maybe, just maybe, Cas is looking down from somewhere, watching, and listening.


End file.
